In Tune
by nanniships
Summary: My submission for Andith Fest 2014! Canon, except for the part about them being happy together. OK...so it's not very canon. Canon-ish? Anyway, Anthony gets Edith a magnificent wedding present, but as it's them, there's a bit of a hitch. Enjoy the definitive proof that I can write them without angst!


In Tune

Sir Anthony Strallan was an extraordinarily patient man, under most circumstances. The only thing that could stir him to impatience of late was proximity with his fiance, Lady Edith Crawley, and extended telephone conversations with the underlings of Broadwood and Sons, suppliers of fine pianos. As he listened to the bored, minor factotum make vague excuses down the line as to why the grand piano he was ordering as a wedding present for Edith couldn't be delivered on the desired date, he indulged in a pleasant day dream of dragging said incompetent out of his snug little office nook and sandwiching him vigorously between the main lid and bent side of his future, precision musical instrument.

"Besides, sir," the annoying little prat pronounced with thinly veiled contempt, "It's not like you can gift wrap one. Surely, it will be a surprise whenever it's delivered. And I can guarantee delivery on the 17th."

Anthony sighed. The 17th was only three days before the wedding, cutting it much finer than he had hoped. Still, if there was no other choice... it wasn't exactly possible for him to fetch it himself.

"Fine... fine..." he muttered. "As long as it is delivered then and not a day later."

"It shall be done, sir," the fellow assured him.

Anthony hung up, lost in a memory of watching Edith play the piano at Downton Abbey the last time he met her there for tea. He had been entranced by the grace with which her fingers danced across the keyboard and the little smile on her face as she concentrated on the music propped in front of her. And, he had to admit, thinking of those fingers playing gracefully in other ways had made him a little hot and bothered. He came away from that enjoyable afternoon determined to order the finest grand piano made in England for his Edith to enjoy in their home.

He wandered away from the phone in his office in a haze of longing, completely neglecting to make a note of the delivery date, but immediately penning a note to Edith to beg the pleasure of her company for tea on the 17th.

"Bloody hell! Why must Jenkins see me _today_?" Anthony muttered to himself as he and his man bustled around his library, trying to get paperwork in order for an emergency trip to York. When the last scrap was shoved into the briefcase, and Anthony had his hat on his head, he made certain to leave instructions for welcoming Lady Edith, if she should arrive before he was able to make it back home. His housekeeper and butler assured him that everything would be in order and that Lady Edith would be well taken care of. Still, he left with the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something.

Oswald, butler at Locksley Manor, prided himself on his imperturbability. Quite simply, it was a butler's calling to never be surprised or taken aback in the performance of his duties. Or, at the very least, never appear to be. Oswald hadn't found this task as difficult as he was finding it now since he'd been very green in his position. The stubborn men in the filthy delivery lorry absolutely _insisted _that... that... _piano_ was to be delivered to Locksley on Sir Anthony's orders _today_. And he was not taking no for an answer.

"I can assure you," Oswald said down his nose with all the contempt he could muster, "that if Sir Anthony was expecting an item such as... _this_, he would have informed the staff. He did not inform the staff of anything of the sort, therefore there has been a error on the part of your dispatcher."

Unimpressed, the lorry driver spat gracefully on the ground next to entryway and squinted at Oswald while his delivery minions sagged against the sides of the lorry with insolent smirks, chewing on the ends of cigarettes, and enjoying the show.

"Look here, mate," he said familiarly, making Oswald's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "We just _delivers_ them, ya see? Invoice and bill of lading says when and where, and that's what we does."

"That instrument," Oswald ground out through gritted teeth, "is _not_ entering the premises without Sir Anthony's approval."

"Suit yerself, mate," the driver said with a shrug. "No skin off my-" the door was slammed with unnecessary force, cutting him off before he could adequately describe what skin would remain intact. The driver whistled to the delivery men and jerked his head towards the lorry. "This here's the address. If they don't want it inside, then we leave it here."

"Here? In the middle of the drive?" one asked, dropping his cigarette in surprise.

"I ain't hauling the bugger back," the driver said darkly. "Safe delivery is all we promise. It's safe, and when you get your sorry hides working, it'll be delivered. Hup! Hup!"

Like a swarm of ants, the men scurried around, placing boards at the rear of the lorry, climbing in and out as adeptly as any troop of chimpanzees, and slowly... slowly... and ever so _carefully_, they maneuvered a beautiful specimen of Baby Grand Piano, Broadwood and Sons' finest offering for home musical enjoyment, out of the lorry and down to rest gently on the fine gravel of the front drive. There it sat, mellow dark wood shining in the glorious sunlight.

On the front drive.

With great care, the lorry driver placed the delivery copy of the invoice on the closed main lid, rubbed at an invisible spot on the top with his coat sleeve, and surveyed the situation. Then he shrugged eloquently and hustled his minions back into the lorry bed to take his departure, happy in the satisfaction of a job well done.

There wasn't even the slightest twitch of a curtain at the window as the lorry drove off. Oswald had departed to his duties, assured that the awkward situation and terribly boorish man had been dealt with properly, happy in the satisfaction of a job well done.

Nobody noticed, of course, when the stiffening breeze blew the invoice off the piano and into the air. It drifted away and was eventually found stuck in a mulberry bush by two young men who proceeded to make paper hats with it.

Lady Edith Crawley left Downton in plenty of time to get to Locksley before tea. In fact, she would be very unfashionably early if she drove straight there. The wind blew through a looser than usual hairstyle, complements of her sister Mary's ladies maid, Anna, who had shared knowing smiles with her as she worked on crafting something lovely that didn't appear to have taken a lot of effort. It was only thanks to her skills that it stayed in place at all, as Edith accelerated to her usual breakneck speed. If her father knew how fast she liked to go in his cars, he most certainly wouldn't allow her to use them.

The feeling of freedom that came from being behind the wheel and alone in the open car was intoxicating, and Edith hoped Anthony wouldn't try to curtail her driving. He had seemed a bit alarmed the last time he had ridden with her, even though she hadn't laid on the accelerator with her usual verve. In fact, he had been sweating and pale by the time they had reached their destination. Perhaps his insistence on taking the ride home to show her the progress he had made at driving with only one arm had not had its roots in pride of accomplishment as much as in self preservation... Well, she had been very proud of him, and had made certain to say so.

Her fiance was full of surprises and she begrudged any time spent apart from him. So, ignoring the horribly intrusive voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Granny and scolded her for her eagerness and unladylike enthusiasm, she steered a course towards Locksley, her future home and favorite destination.

As she turned down the drive towards the front entrance, she came to a gravel spraying halt, gazing in surprise and delight at the beautiful piano sitting in front of the house. She circled the instrument, her eye taking in every shining piece of brass and ivory, running her hand along the flawless wood surface. Thrilled, but very confused, she walked to the front door and rang the chime, looking over her shoulder at the piano, as if to assure herself that it hadn't disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"Good afternoon, Oswald." she said pleasantly when he opened the door. "I believe I'm expected for tea?"

"Good afternoon, m'lady," he replied politely, musing that the future lady of the house was excruciatingly prompt.

Edith stood in the doorway, waiting for some sort of explanation for the piano in the drive. Oswald continued to hold the door open with a slightly raised eyebrow of invitation.

"Oswald, are you aware that there is a piano in the drive?"

Oswald swallowed hard as he caught sight of the piano standing majestically in front of the door. "Yes, m'lady," he answered weakly, schooling his features to express that there could be nothing untoward about a piano sitting in the drive of Locksley Manor.

Edith waited a few moments, looking at him expectantly before giving up and rolling her eyes. "Oswald, this is hardly a... typical occurrence." Craning her neck to see past his solid bulk, she asked, "Is Sir Anthony here?"

Oswald cleared his throat. "I'm very sorry to say that he is not, m'lady. He was unexpectedly called away to York on a matter of great importance. However, he left instructions for your arrival and we have a tea prepared for whenever you wish to begin."

Oswald's collar began to feel uncomfortably tight under Lady Edith's disbelieving scrutiny. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face and his head twitched towards the still open front door, as if hoping he could move Lady Edith into the entryway by sheer force of mental will.

"Actually, I believe I'll have a go at the piano," Edith said, hiding a smile at Oswald's obvious discomfort. Clearly this was some sort of surprise from Anthony and the poor man was doing his best not to give anything away.

Oswald gaped as Edith went to the bench and sat, raising the fall board and running her fingers gently across the cool ivory keys. She smiled in utter delight at the deep, rich tone as she lightly played a chord. Her fingers began to move over the keys, playing a popular song from memory as the light breeze carried the sounds away.

Sir Anthony was ready to add British Rail to the short list of things that made him desperately impatient. He breathed a deep sigh of relief as he settled into the back of the car and directed his driver not to waste time getting them back to Locksley. Edith had most certainly arrived by this time, and he was mortified that she had been left waiting for him. He wrinkled his brow, as the nagging sense of forgetting something returned with a vengeance.

As the driver made the turn into the drive and hit the brakes sharply with an oath of disbelief, Anthony was made suddenly aware of _exactly_ what he had forgotten. The chauffeur sat with gaping mouth as Anthony plunged out of the backseat and hurried towards Edith and the piano.

As he got closer though, he stopped, transfixed by the beautiful image in front of him. Edith played a tripping melody with a huge smile on her lovely face, putting her whole self into the music. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Oswald standing in the front doorway as if nailed to it, but this distraction was quickly dismissed and all his attention was on Edith.

Edith finished the song with a flourish and sat back on the bench with a happy sigh. Seeing Anthony standing near with a completely besotted look on his face, she jumped up and ran to throw her arms around him. Staggering a little, he caught her to him with his good arm and smiled down into her sparkling brown eyes.

"Oh Anthony! It's tremendous! What made you decide to do it?"

"Do what?" he asked in confusion, having for a moment completely forgotten about the piano in his drive.

"The piano, silly," she said with a laugh. "You know... the one sitting in your drive."

"I have no idea what that piano is doing in the drive..." he said honestly, looking over to Oswald for some sort of explanation.

"Nor do I, Sir Anthony," Oswald responded stiffly. "Most irregular."

Edith looked between them with a mischievous grin. "Come now... you're both far too old to be believing in the piano fairy." Anthony looked nonplussed while Oswald looked positively scandalized.

"Er... well... it wasn't meant to be in the drive," Anthony said with a crooked little smile. Although he was thrilled that Edith was so delighted, the piano was supposed to be in the drawing room, to be dramatically revealed after a leisurely tea. Clearly, his fears about the competency of the delivery staff of Broadwood and Sons were realized.

"Wherever its meant to be, it's the most beautiful piano in the world," Edith assured him with a smile. "And it sounds absolutely marvelous, even in the drive."

"Well, why don't we go on in to tea and I'll try to get this sorted out," Anthony suggested, taking her hand and planting a kiss on the back of it. Talking animatedly, they went past a poker-stiff Oswald, who was still staring at the piano as if it had appeared from the bowels of Hell.

After a series of increasingly frustrating phone calls, and some decidedly ungentlemanly language from Sir Anthony which Edith pretended not to hear, hiding her smile under her hand, he gave up trying to get satisfaction from anyone concerned with the delivery of the piano. Sending for his agent, he enlisted the assistance of a large number of strapping sons of the tenant farmers and watched with his heart in his mouth as they maneuvered the piano through the French windows into the drawing room where it belonged. Edith immediately sat down at it again and patted the bench next to her, indicating to Anthony that he should join her.

"I'm afraid it will be horribly out of tune after all that unprofessional shifting," he apologized as she took his good hand and placed it on the keyboard.

"That's easily fixed," she said fixing his fingers over the keys and encouraging him to press. He tipped his head and listened with delight to the sound, his heart beating faster with the pressure of Edith's fingers on his own. She began to play a series of notes with her other hand, pressing on his at intervals, until they were playing a sort of duet, much to Anthony's amazement.

Grinning like children, their eyes met and their fingers stilled. Edith released Anthony's fingers in order to place her hand on his cheek, stroking gently at the corner of his lips with her thumb. Anthony grasped her by the waist with his good hand and pulled her closer to him on the bench. As she shifted her body to face his, her elbow braced on the keyboard, striking a discordant chord.

"It sounds perfectly in tune to me," she whispered as his lips touched hers.

Oswald, passing by in the corridor outside of the drawing room, jerked and shuddered as the crashing notes reached his ears.

Sir Anthony peeked around the edge of the doorway to the drawing room, drawn by the rise and fall of young voices over the sounds of the piano keys. Edith was sitting on the sofa, watching in amusement as their six year old daughter attempted to teach her two year old sister how to play scales and their three year old son dragged yet another cushion underneath the piano for his fort. Anthony quietly entered the room and snuck to the back of the couch, putting his arm around his wife and resting his chin on the top of her head.

"Goodness, they're quite the musicians," he whispered. Edith covered his hand with hers and her smile grew wider.

"Charlotte is convinced that Lilly can learn enough to play a duet with her and Phillip is simply fascinated by the hammers and strings," she whispered back as yet another series of completely unharmonious runs filled the room. They sat together for a moment, watching their young family with quiet joy. When the nanny soon appeared at the door, the three children were all sitting on the bench vigorously pressing the keys, each playing their own melody while their parents sat somewhat inappropriately close on the sofa, oblivious to the din.

"I'll take them to the nursery to prepare for tea now, if that's acceptable m'lady," she offered, wincing at the noise and looking as if she'd be happy to stick her fingers in her ears.

"Is it that time already? Gracious." Edith disentangled herself from Anthony's hold and went over to the piano to call a halt to the practice session. After a few moans of protest and some outright whinging from the youngest, they went off with their nanny and Edith sat down on the bench. Anthony immediately came over to join her.

"It's never really been properly tuned since we moved it in," she said thoughtfully as she ran her fingers over the keys. "Letting the children play on it hasn't helped either. Perhaps we should get a tuner out to freshen it up?"

Anthony was too busy kissing the side of her neck to make any objection. But as Edith gasped and turned to grab Anthony's lapels, dragging his mouth down to hers, he did manage to say:

"It's always sounded in tune to me."

At the servant's dinner later that night, the nanny was heard to say with a disapproving shake of her head: "They let the children play with that piano like it was one of their toys on the lawn."

There was a sputtering cough from Oswald at the head of the table and some low laughter from the rest of the staff.

"In the drive, more like," Oswald muttered into his pie.


End file.
